Left Foot Fowl
by xxArtemisxFowlxx
Summary: Artemis Fowl is many things, but "athletic" is not one of them. Unfortunately this calls for some unwarranted teasing from the other boys of his Saint Bartleby's Physical Education class. Will he let them have the final word?
1. Physical Discrimination

So after posting multiple Harry Potter stories, I've decided to (gasp) post an Artemis Fowl story! This takes place after the 6th book and is set during Artemis's school year. I wrote this from a paragraph from the sneak peek chapter of _Artemis Fowl and the Atlantis Complex_, a new book that will be dropping later this summer!

Also, the "football" mentioned in this story refers to European football, or soccer as it's known in the US (I'm American myself, so I just wanted to clear this up for any readers like me). Since Artemis lives in Ireland they would obviously call what Americans think of as soccer, football.

**Review**? :D

-Jackie

* * *

**Left Foot Fowl  
**_An Artemis Fowl Story_

Chapter 1: Physical Discrimination

* * *

Physical Education. Who had come up with such a name? In Artemis's opinion it was more like Physical Discrimination; the strong boys picked each other and left the weaker ones to fail by themselves. Unfortunately for Artemis, he always belonged to the second group.

Not only was he scrawny in comparison to the other Saint Bartleby's boys, but Artemis was almost vampirishly white, making him stick out like a tritone in a harmonious chord; it was just awful. The other boys recognized his situation and gloatingly took advantage of it, deciding that even if Artemis's grade point average put theirs to shame, comfort could be found by watching the athletic-inept boy make a fool of himself at sports.

"Once you're done changing, meet me outside for today's assignment," the hulking Coach Monroe called as the boys entered the changing locker. Artemis set his gym bag in the darkest corner of the room, which was bare save for lockers and a large sink. This was his least favorite part of class; he detested changing before all of his peers.

"_This is such a crude practice_," he thought bitterly as he took of his blazer. "_Not of the usual standard of Saint Bartleby's. If I want to be treated as a caveman, I can do so at any public school without paying tuition_." He began writing a letter to the dean within his mind in order to calm his shaky hands as he undressed himself.

Artemis heard a few boys snicker from behind after he had quickly changed from his uniform trousers into school-issued gym shorts. He turned around to see Cormac Gallagher and his two friends Ryan Tully and Seamus Monroe, the son of the coach, laughing at a picture on Cormac's phone which was pointed in Fowl's direction.

"That'll look good on Facebook, don't you think?" Gallagher joked to his friends. "I think I'll caption it something like _the great mystery as to whether Artemis Fowl wears briefs or boxers has been solved; full view for evidence_." A couple other boys in the locker room laughed at his words, but Artemis turned back towards the lockers and ignored them. Cormac liked to believe he had as much money as Artemis simply because he was heir to the Gallagher Hotels and Suites fortune. In the full scheme of things, however, Fowl knew he was of no importance.

He finished his dressing and sealed his bag with a fingerprint reader. It wasn't his best anti-theft device, but it would suffice for his gym bag. Before leaving he slipped in reflective contact lenses and sprayed UV block on his skin; if he was going to suffer from his peers, he wouldn't suffer from the sun as well.

Soon all the boys were changed and waiting outside for the coach, the grueling midday sun beating down mercilessly on them from above. Artemis took cover in the poor shade of a frail tree, his white legs and arms not looking quite as pale in the shadows. He crossed his arms as he waited, and talked to nobody. Unfortunately, Cormac had other plans.

"You play many sports, Fowl?" He asked, crossing over to the tree with Monroe and Tully in tow. "And before you answer, I don't consider chess a sport." His friends sniggered at the comment, but Artemis kept a straight face; Gallagher was a mere bully, hardly anything to be considered worthy of his time and words. Artemis did wish, however, that Butler hadn't been expelled from school grounds. He smirked at the thought of his bodyguard sneaking up behind Cormac and cracking his knuckles; then it would be time for Artemis to take a picture or two himself. Coach Monroe spared him from having to answer by finally showing up, a clipboard in his hand.

"After I call your name off this list, you're going to head to the track and give me four laps," he announced with his gruff voice. Artemis felt relief wash over his mind as the other boys groaned. Though running wasn't enjoyable to him, nor was he very good at it, he knew that so long as he mentally paced himself he could easily knock out four laps.

"Once you're done, I want you to meet up in the center of the track and we'll play some football." The whole class cheered at the coach's words except for Artemis. He felt the dread of Physical Education set back in as the thought of running around chasing and trying to kick a football filled his mind. He knew intelligence would help, as it does in all games, but that was only if he could keep from tripping over his feet first. Cormac squeezed Artemis on the shoulder, much to his disliking, and started towards the track.

"See you on the field, Fowl," he said threateningly as Tully and Monroe followed after him. He lingered in the shade of the skinny tree, thinking of plausible ways to avoid playing football; but first he had to run four laps.

Four. The number that sounds like death in Chinese.

…This would not be a good day for Artemis Fowl.

* * *

I will be making a few references to the preview chapter of _Atlantis Complex_, so check out my profile for a link to it!

More chapters to come! **Review**? :)

-Jackie


	2. Partnering Up

Wow, thanks for all the reviews! I didn't think this story would be so popular! So as promised and asked for, here's chapter 2!

-Jackie :)

* * *

**Left Foot Fowl  
**_An Artemis Fowl Story_

Chapter 2: Partnering Up

* * *

Artemis was one of the last persons down to the track, his mind still running through numerous ways he could avoid playing football.

"_I can't continuously skip, unfortunately_," he acknowledged bitterly. "_The coach, even with him being so thickheaded, will eventually begin to notice any chronic absences; besides, that's only if Gallagher doesn't notice for him first_." He let out a long sigh. No wonder he'd been avoiding this class for his entire school career.

A few years back, Artemis had hacked into his permanent record and accredited himself the required Physical Education credits, even going to the added effort to forge a few phony progress reports. Unfortunately, someone in the Counselor's Office had wised up and talked to the coaches and discovered the counterfeit credits. When questioned, Artemis had blamed the outdated and highly fallible computer network for the false credits, claiming he was the victim of a school that pushed more money towards athletics than the overall betterment of the students and their so-called technology, which was so obsolete it made prehistoric Neanderthals look sophisticated. A bit of after-hours work made sure the forged documents disappeared, which he explained was due to careless organization on the part of management. In the end he even managed to make a bit of money by offering to upgrade the Saint Bartleby's archaic system; what they didn't know was that he had also linked them to his personal computer network in Fowl Manor. Lunch menus had improved drastically since the overhaul.

Artemis finally reached the track after having come to the conclusion that the only plausible way through the class would be to actually participate. He stretched out as Butler had once taught him, making sure he wouldn't injure himself. He then started on his first lap around the track, remembering to breathe deeply and roll on the outside of his feet. He mentally listened to Beethoven's 9th Symphony as he ran, using it to keep a steady pacing tempo.

"What lap are you on, Fowl? This is our second," Cormac boasted as he came up from behind and paralleled Artemis. He didn't seem to have broken a sweat, even as he finished out half a mile. Seamus was close on his friend's heels, but Ryan, on the other hand, was about a quarter mile behind them. Artemis ignored Gallagher, focusing even more on his deep breathing.

"_In…out…in…out_," he chanted in time to the music in his head, strides nice and exact. Even Cormac could find nothing technique-wise with his running to pick at, so he increased his speed instead, hoping to goad him into a foot race. However Artemis ignored his ploys and stared ahead, the symphony still beating out perfect time within his mind as he started his third lap. Finally Gallagher lost patience and bounded forward, Seamus struggling along behind him.

Artemis let out the exasperated sigh he had been holding in for half a mile and brought his feet to a walk. Never in his entire life had he run so far, not even when being trailed by the fairy people. Physical exercise was not his forte; as he caught his breath with ragged gasps, he wondered how Butler had ever been so diehard as to get in such top personal fitness.

"_I pushed myself too far; I shouldn't have let Gallagher intimidate me_," he berated himself. Artemis knew that he should have kept a pace where he could hold a conversation as he ran, but that would have placed him dead last among his classmates; as it was he was still near the back of the group. So with clenched teeth and renewed motivation, Artemis sped up to a run once again as he finished his last lap.

* * *

It took whatever energy he had left to not collapse on the ground after finishing the last stretch, his feet like burning cement blocks that were determined to throw any weight off them. However the grass was crawling with insects and other foul creatures, not to mention the itchy and prickly green blades themselves. Instead Artemis clutched onto his pale white knees as he tried to keep his breathing steady and even. The sun seemed vastly hotter than before.

"Picking up somebody's soap, eh, Fowl?" Cormac laughed as he walked over, Seamus and a horribly red-faced Ryan tagging along.

"_Soap_?" Artemis thought, trying to think of how something as inane as body wash could be tied in to Physical Education. Gallagher put a hand on his shoulder and pretended to whisper in his ear.

"Probably don't want to answer that one; Saint Bartleby's is more of a 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' school." Artemis grew red in the face as he made the connection; however, it was hard to notice any change due to his already blood-rushed complexion.

"_This is absurd. Though they have no evidence, they actually think I'm homosexual_." A few of the other gym class boys were beginning to stare at him oddly, but there was nothing he could say in his defense. He briefly considered sharing how he'd recently kissed a gun slinging fairy as he laid half dead in a gorilla cage while trying to rescue an extinct lemur from himself, but only briefly. He didn't think that would go over so well. So he decided to water it down a bit and bring it to their crude level of intellect.

"Though I hardly consider it any of your business," Artemis said as he straightened up. "I am not homosexual. I have kissed a girl before." Cormac raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Really, Fowl? Then tell me: was that before or after your mum told you good-night?" The gang rolled with laughter just as Coach Monroe appeared with his clipboard again.

"All right, boys, gather round!" He blew his whistle to settle Gallagher and his crew who were still chortling at their joke. Artemis stalked to the opposite side of the crowd, his mind furiously buzzing.

"_Not only have they openly questioned my sexual orientation, but they've brought my mother into this as well_." He shook his head at the lowly state of affairs his generation had sunk to. It seemed they really had lost all sense of common dignity after all.

"Now first we're going to pair up and practice basic ball control," Coach Monroe announced.

"Hear that, Fowl? Ball control. Your favorite." Artemis whipped his head around to once again see Gallagher and his friends; somehow they had managed to sneak behind him without his hearing so. They sniggered at their crude innuendo, but Artemis only grit his teeth and turned back around.

"Seamus! Tully!" Coach Monroe yelled. "Quit your fooling around and bring the foot balls from the gym! Everyone else partner up." Artemis looked around helplessly as friends sought each other out. Contrary to popular belief, this generally wasn't a problem for him. The teacher usually called from the roll or allowed students to work on their own; even if that didn't happen, there was always that one kid who wanted to partner with him for a higher mark.

Unfortunately, no one wanted his Physical Education grade.

Artemis saw one kid standing on his own, glasses shoved up on his pale face as he looked around for a partner. He walked over to the curly haired boy, clearing his throat. Unlike his other classmates, he would act like a proper gentleman.

"Excuse me." The nerdy looking boy stopped fidgeting and looked at him silently. "Your name is Gilroy, is it not?" Gilroy nodded. "Would you care to be my partner?" Artemis offered his hand as though the two were entering a serious business agreement. Gilroy quickly shook his head, much to the other's surprise.

"Actually, uh, Artemis…with you here, Cormac and his friends have left me alone all day; I'd rather not…you know…" The young billionaire couldn't believe what he was hearing; not even the outcast wanted to be his partner for fear of teasing.

"Beat it, Napoleon Dynamite. My buddy Artemis and I are going to be partners." He turned around slowly, already having recognized the voice. Gilroy happily scurried away when he saw Cormac stroll up, a foot ball in hand. The jock squeezed him on the shoulder as was his annoying habit and tossed the ball into his hands, which Artemis barely managed to catch.

"I do not want to be paired with you," he said honestly, heaving the ball with all the strength he could muster. Gallagher caught it easily.

"Come on, Fowl; everyone's already partnered up. You don't have a choice." Cormac gave him a wry smile as he expertly juggled the ball with his knees. Years of football had turned him into a fine player.

"Gallagher! Put that ball down until we start!" Coach Monroe snapped.

"Yes, sir," he courteously replied, flicking it up into his hands. But as soon as the coach turned away again, Cormac faked the ball towards Artemis's face, making him back peddle in shock. Gallagher smoothly caught it in his hands again, smirking at his partner's frightened face. Fowl grit his teeth in silence as he listened to the coach's instructions with a disgruntled expression.

His day had taken yet another turn from bad to worse.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

-Jackie


	3. Get Your Head in the Game

I can't believe I haven't touched this story in almost two years! That's ridiculous! But no worries; it will quickly be finished out :)

Thank-you for your continued support!

-Jackie

* * *

**Left Foot Fowl  
**_An Artemis Fowl Story_

Chapter 3: Get Your Head in the Game

* * *

"Boys, space yourselves out and practice dribbling the ball back and forth. I don't want to see any balls flying up into the air; is that understood?" Coach Monroe glared down the tip of his pug-round nose.

A chorus of boys responded: "Yes, Coach Monroe."

Artemis turned to pace out his distance, only to receive a shocking bum-shot from his irritatingly accurate partner. Cormac was rolling in laughter as Artemis reflexively grabbed his cheeks.

"Just thought I'd help you get your head in the game, Arty."

"It's Artemis," he retorted coolly, rubbing his sore backside.

"Artemis, Arty; one's just as girly and faggoty as the other. I mean seriously, what girl wants to yell 'Artemis' when she's about to—."

"Gallagher, Fowl! Stop running your mouths and start dribbling that ball!"

"Sorry, Coach; I was just resuscitating the basic fundamentals of football to my inexperienced partner," Cormac fabricated with a fake smile.

"I believe you meant 'reiterating,' not 'resuscitating;' although your phonetics could surely use a little resuscitating of its own." Artemis couldn't suppress a grin at his colleague's equally mystified and aggravated stare.

"Shut it, Webbler."

"I'm sorry, but were you attempting to refer to Webster, as of the Merriam-Webster dictionary?" Artemis's smirk only widened, but the building arrogance blinded his judgment; he had forgotten they would soon be engaged in the world of physical exertion: Cormac's domain. And when in Rome, you do as the Romans do; you don't exactly make it a point to humiliate Caesar before his subjects.

"I'll show you who's dumb!" Bristling anger gripped his opponent, and it wasn't until the football was halfway across their separated distance that Artemis wiped the gloat off his face, turning at the last second to hide his front side—and expose his tender ribs for impact, in the process.

"_Eeergh_!"

Artemis thought he had made the feminine noise in an undertone, but obviously Cormac had overhead, seeing as how he was doubled over in laughter.

"You sounded _just_ like a chick, dude!"

A blood-red blush overtook Artemis's face as he sorely rubbed his tender ribs; surely there would be another fresh, black bruise to soak that night in his tub.

"_BASIC_ BALL CONTROL, GALLAGHER!" Coach Monroe was equally as enflamed as Artemis, but for an entirely different reason. "You boys either get to work _now_, or you'll start running until I get tired!"

"Sorry Coach, but Artemis _asked_ for me to kick it to him."

Artemis, now bruised, humiliated, and thoroughly sickened of the dishonest boy, turned to face the coach.

"I find such insolent, deceitful chicanery to be reprehensible and deserving of reparation, Coach Monroe."

"His chicawhatta? Now look here boys: I don't know what the hell he just said," the coach gave an exhausted glance towards Artemis, "but I want some good, clean practice out of the two of you, all right?" Coach Monroe took turns giving each a prolonged, stern gaze. "And next time, leave your dictionary in the locker room, Art."

Wholly perturbed and discarding his usually proper student-teacher dialogue relations, Artemis allowed his annoyance to come forth.

"It's _Artemis_, not Art, and seeing as how I did not delineate, I believe you meant to say my thesaurus."

Coach Monroe was silent for some moments.

"Now what you talking 'bout dinosaurs, boy? Back sass me one more time, _one—more—time_, and you'll be receiving a pretty little zero in the grade book for the day, _Ar-teh-mus_."

Artemis choked down his humor at the coach's oafish response and merely replied, "My sincerest apologies, sir."

"Now get to work!"

Artemis thought he heard the coach mutter something along the lines of "_damned smart boy_" as he sourly walked away.

The two spaced themselves out again and finally practiced dribbling the football, albeit a little rougher than either would have liked. Artemis was slowly learning from watching Cormac repeatedly dribble the ball with spot-on success.

"_Kick with the side of the foot, not the toe_," he mentally logged. Useful information. Good. Gallagher was actually turning out to be of some use after all. "_This is merely a question of angles and velocity; a poor angle leads to poor accuracy, whereas uncontrolled velocity takes the ball out of bounds_. _A simple fundamental, really_."

As Artemis gained control over his feet, the lines on Cormac's forehead began to tighten.

"All right, boys, grab some cones and set up goals; it's time to _explicate_ your dribbling skills." Coach Monroe specifically looked at Artemis with a proud sneer when he delivered the whopping three syllable word.

"_Nice attempt, Coach, but not quite_," he thought with a snicker.

"Get ready to meet your maker, Fowl," Gallagher grunted threateningly while tossing two small, rubber cones into Artemis's hands. "No one bests me at my sport; especially not a brainiac like you."

The pale boy grinned. "Congratulations; you finally made a comprehensible reference."

"_Shut up_, Sherlock, and go find some football skills before you're on the ground crying like the little girl you are."

"Remarkable; you're beginning to acquire an aptitude for germane insults."

Cormac kicked the ball up into his hands with a growl as they each took position between their goals.

"And you're about to acquire an aptitude for a good beating."

Artemis knew he was foolishly overconfident, but he couldn't help a cocky smile from having caused such disgruntle in his opponent.

"What is it you football players say before a match? Oh, I recall; _bring it on_."

* * *

Oh_, snap._

Thank-you so much for reading, even though this has sat inactive for a ridiculously long time :( Review anyways? :D

-Jackie :)


	4. The Seven Step Process

Thank-you for the wonderful reviews! I had forgotten how fun this story is to write :) Hope you enjoy this next-to-last chapter!

-Jackie :)

* * *

**Left Foot Fowl  
**_An Artemis Fowl Story_

Chapter 4: The Seven Step Process

* * *

Cormac Gallagher squinted his eyes and scoffed at his pale, meekly-looking opponent, whom had suddenly gained an arrogance of his own.

"I wouldn't be feeling too confident if I were you, Fowl. We're playing football, not competing in the science fair." They now stood in their respective goals, approximately twenty-five feet apart, the afternoon heat sizzling on their necks. Artemis silently wished to run back to the locker room and retrieve his UV block, but he could not afford to lose the ground he had gained on his opponent; or at least, the ground he surprisingly hadn't hit that day.

"Au contraire, petit garçon Gallagher," said Artemis fluently, "that's exactly what this is: a science fair." Cormac shook his head, tiring of their wordplay and yearning for some actual gameplay.

"Well get ready then, because judging's about to start."

Artemis's ego had grown to a height he hadn't known since kidnapping the fairy Holly Short, its mass a giant, floating balloon of hot air. Yet he had forgotten just one, minor detail—Gallagher dropped the ball to the ground and planted his foot on top of it—Artemis's breath caught in his throat, his mind visualizing the needle preparing to deflate his egotistic balloon—

He still didn't know how to play football.

Cormac let loose a mighty kick, the ball only a black and white blur as it whizzed past Artemis's legs, scored a goal, and continued rolling quickly along the grassy field, championing Cormac's accomplishment.

"Science fair, huh? You might as well go home, Artemis. Looks like I'll be taking first place after all," Cormac boasted, savoring every knit that grew tighter on his rival's forehead. Artemis ignored the comment, turning to fetch the football that had finally stopped rolling once it hit the running track.

"_Calm thyself, Artemis_," the genius thought, recovering his wits, "_Egotism leads to downfall; you would think the troll in Fowl Manor would have taught me that_." He recalled the incident for any more potential lessons just as he reached the field's edge, the ball only a few feet away. What he needed was science. Though at the time he had not quite thought out his flashy show business about this being a science fair, the statement was, in retrospect, valid. As he had discovered earlier, football was merely a matter of angles and speed. Unfortunately, that didn't change how the ball felt in his weak hands: awkward and imposing.

"_However, I now need to score a goal, not merely dribble a ball_."

The problem could almost be laughing at Artemis from his mind; he felt the answer was blaringly obvious, but prolonged exposure to the hot Irish sun had warped his critical thinking abilities.

"_No wonder football fanatics are always making fools of themselves on the news_," he mused with a faint attempt at a smile. "_Focus. This is a science fair. I need to go about this like the scientist I am_." Artemis gently set the ball on the ground before him, ignoring the snicker it provoked from Cormac. If this was a science fair, their playing an experiment, then Artemis knew exactly what he needed to do: the seven step process.

"_First step: ask a question_." Artemis placed his foot gently on top of the football, adjusting himself to its feel. "_How do I get this ball past Gallagher's defense_?" Cormac lowered himself to the ground, knees bent and moving side to side, like a cobra readying to strike.

"_Second step: research_." Artemis reassessed his opponent; Gallagher was tensed, shifting his weight in preparation, but there was a discrepancy: he tended to lean left more than right. "_And in his position, he looks approximately in line with the goal posts, in fact…how could I have not noticed this all along_?" The boy genius allowed a thin smile to seep through his concentrated visage.

Two goal cones aligned in a nearly perfect 180-degree line, Artemis, the point in front: a triangle. Trigonometry.

"_Third step: hypothesize_." Artemis took his foot off the ball, turning it to kick. "_If Gallagher stands in the center of a goal that is approximately twenty-four feet wide, a person his height can probably guard six feet on either side. Therefore, I have plausibly six feet on the outsides to score past his defenses. Seeing as how I'm directly in front of Cormac, I form the point of a right triangle. If we're twenty-five feet apart, and there is twelve feet to his right, the Pythagorean Theorem states that the hypotenuse must be twenty-seven and seventy-three hundredths feet long. Inverse trig function sine of twelve over the hypotenuse yields an angle measure of twenty-five and sixty-four hundredths degrees. But how many degrees of that can Gallagher block? Well, if he can block six feet to his right, then the hypotenuse of that right triangle is twenty-five and seventy-one hundredths feet; through the usage of inverse sine of six over the new hypotenuse tells me that the angle Gallagher can block is thirteen and fifty hundredths degrees. Subtract that from the overall angle measure of twenty-five and sixty-four hundredths degrees, and I can conclude, within a certain probability, that I have only twelve and fourteen hundredths degrees on either side to score in. And since he leans left more than right, I should angle my foot at thirteen and fifty hundredths degrees towards his right corner for the best chance of making my goal_."

Artemis really grinned this time.

Angling his foot at the appropriate degree, he prepared for the fourth step: test hypothesis. Rearing back with all his might, his foot hurdled towards the football, preparing to finally show—

"DON'T PANIC!" Cormac's shout caused Artemis to tense, his foot veering too many degrees off target. As a result the ball went too far, albeit in the planned direction, and missed the goal entirely. "I didn't surprise you, did I?" His opponent proudly wore a smug grin, snickering as Artemis went, once again, to fetch the ball.

"Don't want you running home and crying to Mum; you might shock her into another crazy phase. No wonder your father had the sense to run away. It's a shame he's back to living in that nut house with your psychotic mother again."

When it came to insults directed at Artemis, most bullies knew where to draw the line. In fact, Artemis had been called such a wide array of insults that they no longer bothered him, and sometimes he chose to write them down in his memory in case he ever needed a good insult; Foaly prompted the occasion numerous times.

But nobody, not a single bully at Saint Bartleby's, insulted Angeline Fowl.

Artemis gripped the ball so hard that his hands turned beet red, manicured fingernails digging into its padding. Teeth clenched, eyes down, lips thin; he could utter no words in his fury.

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Need your Mum here to comfort you? I doubt she'll be able to give you a very good hug because of that straight jacket you must keep her in." Cormac laughed with his friends, who had now gathered around the match since Coach Monroe was dragging some kid to the infirmary since he swore up and down that the air was shimmering.

Artemis took his place in front of his opponent, ball gripped firmly in his hands. "_Step five: analyze_." It took five deep breaths before he could calm his nerves, clear the fogging anger from his mind. "_Though my experiment had a rather…confounding variable in it, I believe my math was plausible. Given the recent circumstances, however…a new experiment shall be conducted_."

He dropped the ball to the ground, angling his foot once again; however this time, he had an entirely new calculation in mind. Artemis dug down to his deepest anger, readying to strike anew.

"Hit me with your best shot, Fowl."

Oh, he intended to.

It was miraculous, really; the ball traveled faster and straighter and harder than his calculations had estimated. In a matter of seconds the cocky grin was wiped off Gallagher's face, and he was sinking to his knees.

Artemis had hit him with his best shot, all right—directly where no man ever wants to be nailed with a soccer ball.

"_Step six: conclude_."

"Oh my goodness, Cormac! Cormac, baby, are you okay?"

A thin brunette girl, whom Artemis had seen jogging around the track with her class, pushed towards Gallagher through the crowd, kneeling over his prone form as he cradled his injured privates. At her voice he rolled over onto his side—and promptly vomited on her white Nikes.

"OH MY GOD! EWWW! _GROSS_!" The brunette backpedaled, Cormac spitting out the remains of his stomach.

"Sarah, baby, no, I didn't mean to," he choked out, barely able to stretch his legs out in front of him. Artemis softly laughed to himself, but to his surprise another person was laughing softly over his shoulder as well.

"Fowl, you're terrible," the same voice said in a whisper. Artemis glanced over his shoulder from the corner of his eye. What had Coach Monroe taken a boy to the infirmary for? Claiming to see the air shimmer?

"Goodness gracious what the HELL did you two boys do now?" Coach Monroe was back, but without the missing student. Seeing Cormac on the ground as Ryan and Seamus tried to help him up, the coach turned his wrath on Artemis. "You suck that badly at sports, son, or did you attack him?"

"He did it on purpose!" shouted Ryan.

"We saw him do it, Dad!" interjected Seamus.

"Now you two shut up, and don't be calling me Dad, Seamus! We're at school, so it's Coach!"

Seamus shrunk under his father's glare as Cormac regained his footing. "Sorry, Coach."

Artemis cleared his voice and stepped forward, making sure to avoid the vomit. Step seven: communicate results.

"My sincerest apologies, Coach Monroe. It's unfortunate that Gallagher's verbal defecation lead to such—_smashing_ results from my experiment."

At this the coach threw his hat down from his head and glared at the boy.

"The hell I tell you about them dinosaurs, boy? Now I am really sick and tired of you boys! I got Sarah Stickler crying over her ruined shoes because of numb nuts here, Gilroy Jackson in the infirmary swearing up a storm the air around the football field is shimmering, and Artemis Fowl trying to impress everybody with his big ole vocabulary while he's injuring another student!"

When the coach had finished his vent, nothing could be heard but Cormac's pitiful sniffles. Coach Monroe turned on his heel at the sound.

"Shut up and walk it off, Gallagher! In fact, everybody, give me some laps! I don't know how many, just RUN!"

Still snickering under his breath from revenge, Artemis took to the track with an elated heart. The shimmer, he noticed, followed.

"I thought you'd learned your lesson about revenge, Fowl."

"And I thought you weren't allowed above ground on a regular basis. So of what service am I requested this time?" Artemis spoke his words at a whisper, hanging back from the crowd so as to avoid being overheard.

"I'll debrief you at Fowl Manor. I stopped by earlier, forgetting that even a genius like you has mandatory schooling. When Butler said you had a physical fitness class this afternoon, I just had to witness such a disaster with my own eyes."

"Very funny, Captain. You're a regular comedian."

"Watch your tone, Mud Boy," Holly attempted to say sternly, but a chuckle broke in. "I must say that Gallagher boy deserved what he got, however. Want me to sneak up behind him and avenge your mother further? No person has the right to speak that way against Angeline."

Artemis almost gave into the idea, but then a new one came to him. An idea that was far more satisfying than watching Cormac trip while running or do something equally humiliating—not that he wouldn't enjoy that, either.

"No, Captain, I have a plan of my own." Having known Holly so long, Artemis could practically see the grin she wore on her face due to his words.

"I have definitely got to see this."

* * *

If you were wondering...yes, I really did work out all that math on a piece of paper. The hardest part was putting it into words! I'm 99% sure I did my trigonometry correctly; I used examples and sources! But if I did it incorrectly, do I still get a gold star for effort? :3

-Jackie

p.s.

One more chapter left! :) / :(


	5. Epilogue: The Family Jewels

I cannot believe I'm at the end of our journey together! :( It's been a lot of fun writing this story, and I am so glad people have enjoyed it.

Thank-you all for your continued support of my writing! :D

-Jackie

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**Left Foot Fowl  
**_An Artemis Fowl Story_

Epilogue: The Family Jewels

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Needless to say, it hadn't been the best of days for Cormac Gallagher.

There is to say, however, that after school the humiliated and angered boy stormed over to his father's executive office at the Emerald Sky Hotel and Resort, blindly hustling past the "wet floor" sign and consequently bumping his rump on the crowded lobby floor.

"Master Gallagher, may I assist you up?" the doorman offered, but the boy was not blind to the muffled smile the man wore.

"Hump off, you damned gallute!"

Clearly, it most definitely hadn't been the best of days for Cormac Gallagher.

Brimming with mounting frustration and somehow blaming Artemis for his tumble, Cormac regained his footing and picked up his hustle, swiping his Restricted Access key and entering the frosted glass elevator behind the lobby desk. Four floors later he was at his destination, gingerly watching his step as he exited the lift.

Inside the room were two comfortable, emerald chairs sitting before a modern-style desk. Ms. Clark, his father's ever-strict secretary, did not bother to look up from her computer screen as she steadily moved her fingers over the keyboard.

"Good day, Master Gallagher," Ms. Clark saluted, keeping her head perfectly still as her hands clacked away. Cormac sourly ignored her greeting and headed for the glass doors that read "LORCAN GALLAGHER: CEO OF EMERALD SKY HOTELS AND RESORTS."

"Your father is in a meeting, Master Gallagher, and wishes to be undisturbed."

"He better well make time for me, right now," Cormac grumbled, grabbing the crescent-shaped door handle as he did so. Ms. Clark only sighed, still typing.

"_Never having kids, never having kids, never having kids_…"

Cormac threw open the door and barged into the middle of a conversation, abruptly cutting short the speaking visitor. His eyes widened when he saw who it was, but his father spoke first.

"My goodness, Cormac, surely Ms. Clark told you I was in a meeting?" Lorcan abruptly straightened his papers, closing the manila folder laying in the middle of the oval meeting table. Cormac didn't say a word; he held a firm gaze with the visitor. His father reddened at the social gaff.

"My apologies, Master Fowl, my son is obviously not about his wits."

The visitor straightened his tie, leaning back in his chair.

"It is quite acceptable, Mr. Gallagher; it is my understanding that your son did not have the most pleasant day at school," replied Artemis with the smallest hint of a grin. Lorcan, however, remained unappeased and embarrassed.

"Bad days are no excuse for poor manners, Cormac. Though I must admit I had quite forgotten the two of you went to the same school or that you still attended school at all! You seem so adult-like in manner," Lorcan addressed the last line towards Artemis, who took it with a small nod.

"St. Bartleby's requires my education for another few years, I am afraid." Artemis enjoyed the displeasure his words evoked from his rival. Lorcan nodded sympathetically before addressing his son again.

"Well, what have you intruded upon our meeting for?"

Artemis looked at his enemy with amusement, clasping his hands in his lap and raising an eyebrow at the boy. Cormac opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, glancing back and forth between his father and Artemis.

"Well—uh—nothing, Father. Just dropping by is all," the boy covered; of course he had been planning to tell his father what had happened that day in hopes of a meeting with the Dean or a civil suit or _something_, but now Artemis had invaded his home life as well. Cormac swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He should have just fought the boy when they were on the football field.

"Then how can you possibly excuse interrupting a business meeting in such a rude manner?" Lorcan leaned forward on the table, shaking his head and waving the problem away. "As luck would have it, I guess it was a good thing you did drop by today, Cormac. I think it will be easier to tell you the news first before having to break it to Cornelia."

Cormac eased himself into a seat, head whipping from Artemis to his father.

"What news? What do you have to tell Mother?" An uneasy sensation gripped the boy's stomach. Artemis gently swayed on his loafer's heel in the swivel chair, drumming his forefinger against his hand in sets of five. Lorcan tapped his pencil on the table for a while before setting it down and spreading his hands wide.

"We're in financial trouble, Cormac. Too much money has been invested in our resorts and hotels with too little—or, as the case has been lately—_no_ income. Rather than filing bankruptcy and flushing our credit rating down the drain, I have decided to sell the Emerald Sky Hotels and Resorts chain—to young Master Fowl here, to be specific. He came by just a little before you did and made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

Cormac's mouth dropped open, and for a few seconds he was silent in his surprise.

"WHAT! What do you mean financial TROUBLE? Just last winter we went on vacation to the States; you said yourself a few weeks ago at dinner that our stock was selling for more than it ever had—"

Lorcan tried to abate his son's outburst.

"I know, Cormac, I know. We couldn't afford that vacation, I tried to tell your mother so, but she kept pressing me, and I couldn't bring myself to reveal just how horrible the money was. I gave it a few more months, hoping I could turn the business around, but to no luck. Those inflated stock prices only lasted a few days; we'd be lucky to get four euros a share today." Cormac stammered, turning quickly from one person to the next. "I'm sorry, son. But we can't afford to keep the Emerald Sky."

Lorcan gave his son a pitiful and sympathetic look, but Cormac began foaming over with anger.

"What do you mean you're sorry? This was supposed to be MY family inheritance! My LEGACY! And you SOLD it to _ARTEMIS FOWL_?"

"The second, to be correct," Artemis stepped in with a smirk. Cormac whipped his chair around, standing up with his hands gripping the table as he leaned forward.

"You're going to pay for this, Fowl! Mark my words, you arse-faced, two-timing—"

"CORMAC! That is enough! What has gotten into you today?" Lorcan was out of his seat, rounding the table to control his son. Artemis remained sitting and watched Cormac's expression with an amused face.

"I'm going to 'pay for this?' I suppose I'll have to, since your family apparently cannot."

Cormac's face went red at the insult, and he jumped towards Artemis with his hands outstretched. Artemis simply rolled the chair backwards a few feet, enormously enjoying watching his rival make a fool of himself.

"No! No, no, no, no, NO! Cormac, what has gotten into you? You're taking this like you're a bloody child, not a sixteen-year-old young adult! If you're going to act a child then you shall be as a child; I want you to apologize to Master Fowl, right here, right now. And it better be sincere!" Lorcan had finally caught his son around the waist, forcing him into his seat again. He gripped the back of Cormac's leather chair, and Artemis thought he saw his nails cutting into it. However, Cormac remained defiant.

"I refuse to apologize to that sorry excuse of a business boy when he is deliberately going down a path to destroy my family's fortune!" Lorcan popped his son on the top of his head and turned the chair to face him.

"What family fortune, Cormac? Oh sure, our name is written down for hundreds of thousands, but they're written in the debt books! Don't you see it? We have to sell, Cormac. Be thankful anyone is willing to risk buying this worthless name! If you aren't willing to apologize to such a generous and helpful businessman—" Artemis smirked,—"then at least have the decency to get out of my sight." Lorcan turned away from his son while running a hand through his hair and down his face, his gaze staring out the glass windows. It was raining outside.

Cormac thrust himself from his seat at the table, moving to the door. Artemis, however, caught him on his way.

"Gallagher, I know this business deal is leaving you a bit, shall we say, _sore_ and _blue_," Cormac's chest heaved at the innuendo, "but know this: your _family jewels_ are safe with me." With a very sarcastic smile and a gentle squeeze of the boy's shoulder, Artemis turned back to his seat. Noticing his father's back was still turned, Cormac quickly grabbed Artemis's suit jacket, holding him close so he could whisper.

"You know what, Fowl? _Go to hell_." Artemis's rival released his hold and shoved the genius back towards his seat before opening the meeting room door. Artemis chuckled and straightened his appearance.

"I'll be sure to save you a seat."

Cormac bristled one last time before storming out the door, yelling violently as he tripped over Ms. Clark, whom had been eavesdropping for quite some time.

"I trust everything is settled on the deal, Mr. Gallagher?" Artemis walked over to the window and stood next to the man.

"The what? Who—who are you?" Lorcan turned and faced Artemis, but not without blinking a few times first as a haze lifted. Artemis grinned; he had been expecting as much.

"The deal, Mr. Gallagher. You've recently sold me the Emerald Sky Hotels and Resorts chain due to financial trouble, remember?"

"Oh—oh yes, that, that deal. I am most apologetic…my memory deserts me at the most inopportune times." The businessman, however, still looked confused. Artemis reached out and shook his hand with reassuring firmness.

"Should you need to refresh yourself of the details, they are in the folder on the table," he said, gesturing towards the closed manila folder in the center of the meeting table.

"Thank-you, Master Fowl. It's been a pleasure doing business with you today." Lorcan still looked to have no idea of what he spoke.

"And the same to you, Mr. Gallagher. Good day, and I shall meet with you at a later date to finalize any details, such as moving the main office to the fifth floor. It really is such an abomination, having an office of such importance on the _fourth_ floor." Artemis shook his head in disgust. Lorcan stood mystified.

"Of—of course. An oversight on my part. Good day, Fowl. Ms. Clark will be in touch with you."

Artemis retrieved his Armani briefcase and left the meeting room, greeting Ms. Clark before stepping into the elevator. The secretary removed her glasses once he was gone, rubbing her eyes.

"These poor old eyes are going to give out before I've even got a husband. Seeing shimmers, now, am I? Well, perhaps bad eyesight will make anybody who's interested in me look even that much more handsome," Ms. Clark mused before replacing her eyewear and resuming her typing.

Inside the elevator, Artemis couldn't suppress a grin as he checked the time.

"Most impressive mesmerizing, Captain," he said to the shimmer in the corner. An amused grunt came in reply.

"Humans are easy to mesmerize. What's more impressive is how you possibly convinced me into performing such an underhanded act. I looked over the charts; the business was in the red but was rapidly growing towards the green. He didn't need to sell." Artemis gave another wolfish smile.

"Can you imagine a boy like Cormac inheriting a fortune? He needs to work for his money; what you've really done is help change a character for the best." Holly snorted.

"And in doing so I've helped change another character for the worst. I believe my first instincts about you were correct, Fowl; you're a bad seed."

"A bad seed, perhaps," Artemis shrugged in acknowledgement, "but a wonderful businessman, generous philanthropist, award-winning genius, and devout son." The captain scoffed.

"You've forgotten one other thing, Fowl."

By now the elevator was coming to a stop on the ground floor.

"And what, perchance, is that?"

"A horrible football player: a Left Foot Fowl."

**The End :)**

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Just to answer a few questions that were posed in the reviews, I just wanted to let you all know that I'm not some genius or anything buuuuut I did graduate first in my high school class of about 400 students, which makes me very proud. I plan to be an English major in college with dreams of being an editor & writer. I learned how to do the previous chapter's math in my pre-calculus class which I took in eleventh grade. I'm so very glad you all enjoyed this story and that you found its humor to be funny! If you can't tell, I have a weakness for bad puns and witty comebacks. :P

I hope to write more stories in the future! For now, this is the conclusion of "Left Foot Fowl" :)

It's been a fun journey!

-Jackie :D


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